


What She Came For

by Geonn



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 10:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10332416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: "She pictures the curtains parting on a gust of wind to reveal a person on the balcony. No... not on the balcony but hovering just above it."





	

Lena sleeps in the nude, face down, in the center of her mattress. Some nights she curls an arm around her pillow and draws it to her chest as a replacement for lovers who aren’t there, but tonight her arms are empty. Her fingers are loosely curled near her lips. She sleeps with the window open, but only since coming to National City. Her hair, loose and freshly washed, fans out behind her on the pillows, a few tendrils curling on her bare shoulder.

The blanket is around her waist, low enough to hint at the curve of her hips but not enough to reveal her ass. Lena’s body becomes heavier as her consciousness fades. She feels the breeze against the bare skin of her back, drying the beads of water that remained after her shower. The curtains billow and collapse in the wind as if the city is drawing breath. She hears car horns and sirens, she hears voices below on the street and sometimes she can hear music. The city is alive outside. A plane passes overhead.

She pictures the curtains parting on a gust of wind to reveal a person on the balcony. No... not on the balcony but hovering just above it. The lights of the city conspire to conceal her features but shines through her golden hair to give her a halo. Her cape ripples around her as if floating on the surface of a becalmed lake. She has one knee slightly bent, the ankle of her foot pressed against the calf of the other leg. Her arms are at her sides.

Lena keeps her breathing steady. She doesn’t move or betray the fact she’s still awake (she is still awake... right...?) because it might frighten the other woman away. Perhaps her toes curl slightly under the blanket or she unconsciously moves her legs apart in subtle invitation. She can feel the eyes on her, can almost hear the other woman’s breath catch in her throat. _Come inside._ Lena works her bottom lip with her teeth and tenses so she won’t squirm. The muscles of her back move. Does her voyeur see it? Is she watching that closely, to see minute changes in her body?

There. That was the sound of a boot gently landing on the concrete of the balcony. And there, a whisper as the curtains brush against a muscular arm wrapped in Lycra. Lena curls her fingers and brings them to her lips. She hopes the movement doesn’t spook her guest but she needs to bite down on her index finger to keep from whimpering in anticipation.

A new smell has entered the room. A sharp ozone scent that drifted in on the other woman’s body. It’s the smell of the sky above a thundercloud. Lena’s breath quickens. Her eyes are still closed but the lashes flutter. They want so badly to open and confirm she isn’t alone but she doesn’t dare. If it’s all just fantasy she wants to enjoy it a little longer before abandoning it. She wants to believe there’s a woman of steel standing over her, watching her, holding her breath so it won’t give away her presence.

Lena imagines the short skirt over dark leggings, the knee-high red boots. She can almost see a wave of blonde hair falling across delicate features, shadowing her face even though it’s unmistakable who it is. Lena is breathing heavily now, there’s no disguising that she’s awake. She opens her eyes and looks up to see the shadowy form of the hero is truly and actually there.

“Supergirl,” she says and somehow, in this context, it sounds both ridiculous and perfect. She puts one arm across her breasts and shifts onto her side. The blanket keeps her modest below the waist. Supergirl’s head moves only slightly, admiring the curves, and Lena resists the urge to pose. She feels gorgeous, like an ancient sculpture of smooth marble. Her eyes drop to the stylized S on the other woman’s chest and her fingers itch to trace its smooth lines.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Supergirl says softly.

“Do you want to stay until you figure it out?”

“I don’t know.”

Lena repositions herself on the bed, rises onto her knees, and moves her hand. Now she can see details of Supergirl’s face, watches her eyes dip and her lips part as she takes in the sight of Lena’s nudity. They remain like that, Lena on her knees and Supergirl standing beside her bed, until Lena reaches out. She brushes her fingers over the back of Supergirl’s hand, tracing the fine lines and feeling it twitch at her touch. Lena smiles. The hand which she’s seen hold up alien spaceships and crush concrete are trembling. It’s all because of her.

“Maybe you came for this,” Lena suggests, guiding Supergirl’s hand to her breast. Supergirl angles her wrist, her thumb circling Lena’s nipple. Lena takes the other hand, this time with more confidence, and holds her breath as she puts it between her legs. Her eyebrows flicker, eyes wide to watch the shadowed expression play over the other woman’s face. She tries to keep her breathing steady as Supergirl relaxes her hand. She cups Lena’s mound. “Or perhaps this?”

Supergirl doesn’t say anything.

“Whatever you came here for,” Lena whispers, “if you say it out loud, I’ll let you do it.”

Supergirl makes a noise in her throat. “Lena.”

Lena puts her hands on Supergirl’s shoulders. The cape feels odd under her fingers, slick and smooth like silk but strong as canvas. Keeping her eyes open is a force of will now but she won’t look away.

“I came here to taste you.”

A shiver runs through Lena’s whole body. She presses her lips together and swallows, tilting her head to the side with what she hopes is a confident smile.

“Where would you like to start?”

Supergirl takes a step toward the bed and Lena’s posturing grin is destroyed by the kiss. Her hands move up into Supergirl’s hair. Instinct tells her to respond aggressively - she’s always been a top - but this time it feels proper to let someone else take the lead. Supergirl still has a hand between her legs but the fingers are moving now. She strokes and teases and Lena occasionally twitches or gasps into Supergirl’s mouth in response.

She’s kissing an alien, she’s being fingered by a superhero. Her mind races and reels at these facts. She shifts her position and moves her legs farther apart, moving her hips to compliment the rhythm Supergirl is using. Her other hand is still on Lena’s breast but now it’s caressing her, using such care that Lena almost wants to cry out in frustration. She wants to be bruised, however slightly, wants to be marked by her singular lover. 

Lena breaks the kiss and presses her lips against Supergirl’s cheek. Her tongue flickers out, licks the skin, tastes sweat and sky in equal measure. It’s a face that was moments ago buffeted by winds at altitudes mere humans can never reach on their own. She licks again, already addicted to this strange taste, and finds her ear covered by hair.

“Supergirl... make me come. I want to taste myself off your fingers.”

“Call me...” Her voice cuts off and Lena tenses, eyes open but blocked by Supergirl’s hair. She doesn’t say anything further and Lena drops her hands to the hero’s chest. She traces the S.

Lena said, “I’ll call you whatever you want.”

“Kara.”

The word is barely a whisper and Lena isn’t sure she’s heard it, but that’s impossible. This person in her arms can’t possibly be Supergirl _and_ Kara Danvers, because that would make her too utterly perfect. But as the information settles in her mind, it fills in gaps that she didn’t know existed, like a completed puzzle that turned out to be one large square piece to a much bigger picture.

Lena pulls back and looks at the woman with her. “Kara?” she whispers. 

Supergirl looks way. Her face is completely obscured now and, somehow, that is what finally convinces her. 

“Make me come, Kara,” Lena says pointedly. “I want to taste myself on your fingers.”

Superg-- Kara lifts her head. They look into each other’s eyes, finally seeing each other fully, and they kiss again, they kiss for the first time. Kara puts an arm around Lena’s waist. She grabs Lena’s ass and pulls her forward. Lena moans in pleasure because she knows how tight the grip is. The skin of her ass, so smooth and porcelain-white, will bear the mark of Supergirl’s hand for several days at the very least. She wants to get the bruise tattooed in place so it never has to face, and she flicks her tongue against Kara’s in gratitude.

Lena feels her climax building and is torn between wanting it desperately and reluctance to end this moment. She wants Kara’s fingers inside of her forever. She wants to balance on this edge for the rest of her life, looking into those gorgeous eyes (how had she never noticed them before?) and running her hands over the tight muscles. But orgasm is inevitable. She moves her hand under Kara’s to touch her own clit. 

“Don’t stop, Kara.”

“Lena.”

“Kara. Supergirl. Kara!” 

She arches her back and Kara steps forward, their bodies pressed tightly together, Kara’s shoulders at a peculiar angle so she can keep one hand on Lena’s ass. Lena’s eyes are closed, her head tilted so far back that she can see the wall behind her. She’s startled by a feather-light touch on her neck and shudders when she realizes Kara is kissing her throat. 

“Higher,” she groans, “just under my ear.”

“Here?” Kara asks without lifting her head.

Lena sucks in air through her teeth; the kiss shoots straight though her, an electric charge to her nipples and pussy, and she wriggles like a content kitten. She straightens her posture and takes Kara’s head in her hands. They kiss again, a suitable alternative to what came before because it means continued contact without a necessary ending. They could kiss for hours if they wanted to and, at that moment, Lena would be more than willing to try.

“Is this happening or is it a dream?”

“Your dream or mine?” Kara asks, brow adorably furrowed.

Lena smiles. “I think by asking that, you just answered my question.” She looks down Kara’s body. “It would be easier to believe you’re Kara Danvers if you weren’t wearing this outfit.”

“Do you want to take it off of me?”

Another twinge, deep between her legs, like a zap to her clit. “I’m not sure I know how.”

“It’s not complicated.”

Lena shifts her weight and lets go of her. “Show me.”

Kara steps back and Lena immediately regrets the loss. She sits on her knees, one hand on her hip with the other covering her sex, stroking herself as Supergirl vanishes a piece at a time. The cape is folded lengthwise and left over the back of a chair. Lena’s eyes linger on it for a moment as she takes in the fact that Supergirl’s cape has been discarded in her bedroom. When she looks back, Kara has removed the boots and leggings. Lena bites her lip and rocks her hips from side to side.

One piece at a time, the hero is erased. The woman standing before her in a pair of red underwear may have skin harder than steel, but she looks vulnerable and alone. She curls her toes in the carpet and swings her arms in an aborted attempt to cover herself. Lena realizes she could crush this woman in the simplest way: a cruel word, even just an insulting smile, would pierce her skin. But Lena won’t, can’t do that, because Kara Danvers is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen, and now she knows just how phenomenal she is.

“Kara,” Lena whispers, just to have the sound in the room. She holds out her hand. “Come here.”

Kara crosses the room. Lena holds out her arms and Kara lets herself be folded into an embrace. They’re kissing again - Lena isn’t sure which one of them started it - but she falls onto the bed and pulls Kara with her. She allows herself to be pressed into the mattress, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as she expected. For a person who can stop bullets, Kara is petite and lightweight on top of her. Her hands trace up from the bell of Kara’s hips, over her ribs, to her breasts. Kara squirms and giggles, which makes Lena smile.

“Don’t tell me you’re ticklish.”

“Then don’t tickle me.”

Lena laughs and lifts her head. Kara meets her halfway. Lena explores the lines of Kara’s body, down to her ass, and positions her properly. She points her toes on the mattress to press her thigh between Kara’s legs. Kara gasps but adjusts herself, hands on the headboard. Her breasts are directly in front of Lena so she licks her lips and then begins covering them with kisses. She takes a nipple into her mouth and sucks gently. She expected Supergirl to taste like iron, but Kara tastes like something soft and airy. Her breasts are pale with a pink flush and Lena tries to cover all of it with her mouth, kissing and licking as Kara rides her thigh and Lena suddenly realizes they’re fucking while she was distracted by exploring Kara’s chest.

She lays her head back down on the pillow and looks up. Kara covers her completely, hair hanging down in her face, lips parted. 

“Oh, my God,” Kara gasps.

Lena puts her hand on Kara’s cheek. Kara turns her head and Lena brushes her thumb over her mouth. Kara parts her lips and takes it into her mouth, sucking it as she moves faster. The bed shifts under them, a reminder of the sheer power possessed by the woman above her.

“Kara... easy, easy...”

“Wha--”

“You moved the bed.”

“Oh... sorry.”

Lena smiles. “Move it all you want. Fuck me as hard as you want, Kara Danvers.”

Kara makes a tortured sound. “Oh, Jesus,” she says under her breath, harsh language Lena never would have imagined coming from the sweet little ace reporter who brought her pastries and dressed in pastel sweaters. But there is apparently a lot about Kara she didn’t know and would never have expected. Kara, aroused and shining with sweat, seconds from orgasm, is an animal she’s only just met, and she looks forward to learning every detail about her. 

“Kara.” She moves her hand, finds the back of Kara’s thigh, and draws it forward until it presses against her pussy. The muscle is unbelievably firm, but softened by Kara’s skin. It’s like a steel beam wrapped in the softest pillow, and Lena grinds down on it. They thrust against each other with eyes open, reduced to panting and grunting for communication as they near their finish. 

“Again,” Kara says weakly, eyes suddenly closed tight.

“What? I don’t...”

“Say--”

“Kara.” Lena reaches up, touches Kara’s breast. “Kara.” Her hand tangles in thick blonde hair. “Kar--”

Kara cries out, chin up, and climaxes. Lena holds tightly to her and watches her come. Kara Danvers, Supergirl, naked, mid-orgasm, inspires her to become an artist. She would never paint or sculpt anything but this image. Shoulders back, breasts proudly displayed, sweaty hair stuck to shoulders and chest, smooth abdomen convulsing as she tightens her thighs so tight around Lena’s leg that she seriously fears for the safety of the bone. 

When she finishes, she looks down at Lena. She looks like a madwoman, face lost in hair. “Did you come?”

“I came earlier... we’re even.”

Kara grunts. She moves like an animal, sliding down until her face is between Lena’s legs. Lena has just enough time to gasp in surprise, and then she lifts her hips up off the bed. She fixes wide, unblinking eyes on the ceiling, grabs a handful of Kara’s hair, and comes against her tongue. She’s had oral sex that lasted longer, but nothing that ever _ever_ felt so perfect. She collapses on the bed, dazed, over-sensitive, eager for more but unsure if she can survive it. She rubs a hand over her face and looks up only when she realizes Kara has slid off the bed.

“Don’t go. Please.”

Kara turns and looks over her shoulder, smiling. Lena is inspired for a second sculpture. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kara promises. “I just wanted to get this.” 

She grabs her cape, shakes it out, and walks back to the bed. She looks bashful without her glasses or her S to hide behind. She holds the cape in front of her.

Lena sits up. Her hair is a tangle. “Let me wrap myself up in that.”

Kara giggles. “That’s what I was going to ask. It’s not corny...?”

Lena holds out her hand. Kara comes closer and wraps the cape around her. It’s the warmest, softest material she’s ever worn. She feels as if she could snuggle up and go directly to sleep. Kara tucks it tight and Lena holds it under her chin. Kara kneels in front of her on the bed and they kiss again. Kara starts to say something but Lena shushes her, puts a finger against her bottom lip, and kisses her. Anything that could be said in this moment can go unsaid. “I want you to stay” or “that was amazing,” it’s all just noise.

Kara guides Lena down. Lena unwraps the cape just enough so it covers Kara as well. They lay on their sides, staring at each other in the darkness, and Lena can again hear the sounds of the city outside: sirens, traffic, voices, music. The real world floods back in and reminds her that this is real, it happened, and she won’t wake up in an empty bed with the pillow between her legs.

“This is what I came for,” Kara says.

Lena smiles. “Good.”

They hold each other. The wind through the wind picks up the tail of the cape and flaps it gently as the women underneath it drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel, by popular demand!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10498332


End file.
